


A Gift for the Dying

by HIMluv



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HIMluv/pseuds/HIMluv
Summary: A/N: There's a playlist, which I highly recommend youlisten to while you read.Enjoy!





	A Gift for the Dying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forlorn_Melody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forlorn_Melody/gifts).



> A/N: There's a playlist, which I highly recommend you listen to while you read. Enjoy!

Huerta Memorial Hospital was always a busy place, but since the Reapers arrived in the Milky Way there seemed to be an endless train of patients. Thane was long familiar with the hospital, so much so that much of the staff knew him on a first name basis. He frequently roamed the halls in the late evenings, quiet and contemplative, trying to still his worrying mind.

It’d been only twenty-four hours since the Reapers attacked Earth. News from the planet trickled in, and none of it was good. There were too many dead to count, names constantly ticking across vidscreens all over the Citadel. And those were just the dead that could be identified. And each hour Thane watched for the name he couldn’t bring himself to say outside of a prayer.

“Arashu,” he whispered as he wandered an intensive care ward. “Guide her. Let her fly far from those who would try and destroy her, swift and safe.” In the quiet of his mind he always added, _bring her back to me_.

It was a selfish thought. He could not assist Shepard in her fight against the Reapers; he could hardly leave the hospital even on his best days. If the Goddess did deliver his Siha to him, it would only be to grace him with the chance to say goodbye. He was certain he did not deserve such favor, but he craved it nonetheless. 

He walked on, his steps silent as ever. Some part of his mind, the part that could never separate his past from his present, tracked the beeps, hisses, and hums of medical equipment. The tense, murmured conversations between nurses and doctors. The solemn, final quiet that haunted some of the rooms. He noticed it all without thinking and catalogued the information for the occasion he might need it.

Not that such an occasion would present itself. Thane was long past the days of being able to use his training. His lungs were deteriorating quickly, and no amount of breathing treatments could change that. He’d had time to come to peace with his life, create memories with his son, and get his affairs in order before he joined Kalahira beneath the waves.

He had his Siha to thank for that.

The swinging doors at the end of the hall burst open, light and sound flooding into the ward to shatter the calm.

“Human male, thirty-five years old,” one Asari announced as she kept pace with the gurney hurtling toward him. She swiped her finger on her datapad. “Biotic, L2 implants. Chronic migraines.”

The sudden frantic surge of energy disoriented him for a moment. Black eyes blinked against the sudden light, the scene flashing in his mind; another memory he’d forever keep.

And she was there.

Bright. Vivid. A flame shining through the dark of silent days to warm his fears away. “Siha,” he breathed.

She didn’t look up, didn’t hear him. She marched beside the gurney, her eyes locked on the unconscious man, bruised and hardly breathing, her hand laced with his.

_Picture frame on the desk. Shaking fingers trace the image then lay it face down. Soft face cast in the blue glow of the fish tank. Won’t look at me. Nervous. Ashamed. Hurt. ...Afraid. Expressions flash across her face, as fast as the memories claim me. Each of them a mirror of what I hold inside._

He blinked and the Captain’s quarters of the Normandy fell away, but the flush of the memory lingered. The cool of the hospital suddenly felt foreign against his skin, where seconds before her skin had warmed his. And just as quickly as the memory overwhelmed him, it was gone. He stood in the lingering shadows of the Intensive Care Unit and watched his Siha follow the wounded man into a private room.

To strangers, the nurses and surgeon, she undoubtedly looked calm. Her proud face was clear, eyes sharp and seeking as she observed every flurry of motion. But to him, the fear and dread on her face was obvious as the sun glinting off the waves of Kahje. The tight purse of her lips, tamping down her emotions. The crease in her brow, battling back tears. She still cared for this man, the one who’d cut her to the core on Horizon. The one who’d left her so uncertain and alone.

Thane’s instincts were to hurt this man, but he knew to do so would only hurt Shepard more. He waited a moment longer. His lungs might have failed him, may have rendered him inert in the course of Shepard’s life, but perhaps he could be of service in other ways.

He used his long-practiced stealth to carry him past the room and back out into the lobby of the hospital. Shepard wouldn’t be permitted to remain in the room for long, no matter who she was. And when she was cast adrift Thane would be there to buoy her.

 

It took less time than he’d planned. When Shepard emerged from the back of the hospital, the Citadel had only just begun its morning cycle. Feeble, artificial sunlight trickled through the windows, cold and ineffective, but even so he could see that she’d been crying. She looked worn, tormented by the destruction and death she’d left behind and wrung out from the adrenaline that had hurtled her across the galaxy to the Citadel. Suddenly Thane felt cornered, like he did when a mission had spun wildly out of his control.

_Pulse, elevated. Breath, ragged. Assailants maneuvering into flanking positions. Rifle fire, quick and sharp. Precise. Pain, hot and overwhelming. I raise my pistol. Squeeze the trigger._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_I can breathe again._

When Thane opened his eyes Shepard was there. She stood just outside the ring of armchairs, the seating a conscious choice on his part. It would be best if they kept their distance from now on.

“Shepard.”

She sank into the chair across from him. “Thane.” His name flowed from her lips, like a warm desert breeze. “How are you?”

He paused. “Well enough.”

She gave him that look, the one that said that was not an acceptable answer.

He chuckled, the sound dry and unfamiliar in his chest. Then he coughed.

And coughed.

Shepard stood, moved to join him, but he raised a hand and held her at bay. It would pass. Once he’d settled and caught his breath, he smiled a little. “I’m receiving treatment here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is it helping?” The hope in her voice stung, needles piercing skin.

“No,” he said. “But it has minimized my discomfort.”

She reached for his hand, and he allowed her to take it. Perhaps she needed the comfort of his touch more than he needed hers.

“I hadn’t heard from you,” she said. “I worried -- “

“I attempted to contact you several times. Kolyat and I visited Earth. A place called New Mexico.” His smile grew at the memory and he allowed it to overtake him. At least, this way, he could share a little bit of the trip with her after all.

When he blinked back to the hospital, her smile was small and brittle at the edges. Any mention of Earth would cut like broken glass under her feet; he should have considered that.

“I’m sorry I missed it. But I’m sure Kolyat loved having that time with you.”

He nodded. “It is a cherished memory, I hope for us both.”

She glanced around the waiting room, suddenly hesitant to meet his gaze. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could come with me.” She cleared her throat. “I could really use you.”

He knew how much those words cost her; and that she needed more than just his skills as an assassin.

“I’m sorry, Siha. My days of travel are behind me.” The words hung in the air like smoke. Suffocating. He adjusted in his seat. “Will you remain on the Citadel while the Major recovers?”

She knew him well enough not to be surprised at his knowledge of Alenko’s identity. Research and planning were key traits of an assassin, after all. And he knew her well enough to know the answer before she spoke. The disappointment was plain on her face.

“No. We’re headed to Palaven, hopefully find this Primarch and get the Council’s support for once.” She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I hate leaving him behind.”

He tilted his head. “You still care for him.”

“Thane,” she said. “It’s... complicated--”

“You misunderstand me,” he said. “I am happy for you. From all accounts Major Alenko is a good man.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. More emotions, locked behind her smile. “He is.”

Thane relaxed into his seat and steepled his hands before him. “I will watch over him in your absence.”

She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Then don’t.” He smiled. “It will give me something to do.”

Their conversation continued for awhile, superficial and light. Neither of them seemed eager to say the words that would hurt them both, but Thane was confident that, by the time Shepard left Huerta Memorial, she knew he had relinquished her back to the living.

Her time with him had merely been a gift for the dead.

 

At first, watching over the Major was a simple thing. Thane would eat breakfast in his small apartment that he shared with Kolyat, then go to his appointment at the hospital. Dr. Michele always insisted he walk for at least half an hour after treatment, and in his wanderings he would inevitably come to Alenko’s room. There he would sit, breathe, and talk.

There was only one thing he and the Major shared in common, so he spoke of Shepard. He told tales of their missions against the Collectors, of the time Kasumi and Garrus convinced her to play cards with them, and the pandemonium that wracked the Normandy when Shepard’s hamster had escaped.

So many little things, moments that felt like hours. When she laughed and caught him watching her, which made her blush. When she came to visit him in Life Support and listened with the care and devotion he hadn’t believed could be bestowed upon him more than once in a lifetime. The trail her fingertips followed when she tucked her hair behind her ears. The lines at the corners of her mouth when she focused on the Galaxy Map.

Each of these images were imprinted on Thane’s mind, his to summon and savor at will. The Major had no such luxury. His memories felt the weight of time, blurring and fading from the moment they were born. And this man chose to spend an entire year without her? A year of memories, laughter, smiles, tears and joy, lost to him.

Thane could not comprehend such a decision, but he was grateful for it. Because of Alenko’s choice, Shepard had given those moments to him instead.

Days seeped into weeks and the Major’s condition stabilized. Thane kept vigil each day, talking to the unconscious man, sometimes praying over him, and other times simply meditating in the dark quiet of the hospital room. And each day he searched for any news of Shepard’s movements.

Occasionally she would be in the room when he made his rounds through the hospital. Whenever her war against the Reapers led her back to the Citadel she always stopped in to check on Alenko. Thane never interrupted or intruded. He let her have time with the man she’d loved before him, and she always made time for the Drell she’d loved after.

He would wait for her in the lobby, in their usual ring of chairs and they would chat amicably for some time. It was awkward at first, stilted while they found their way back to friendship. It was inevitably the highlight of his day.

And then the Major woke up.

Gone were the hours of quiet murmurings and reflective prayer. Now Alenko’s room was a chaotic hum of comings and goings, of nurses and doctors and demanding machinery. Thane retreated from the Major’s days, relegating himself to a specter keeping careful watch in the hallway. Until the Morning Donell Udina stormed into the ward.

_Behind me, angry words thrown back and forth. Sneering. Dismissive. Ferns with limp fronds in the planter on the balcony reach for the railing. Away from the office. Too clean. Hiding something?_

Thane didn’t trust Udina, and judging from the careful expression on Alenko’s bruised face, the Major didn’t either. Another point in the man’s favor. He watched for a moment longer, exaggerating his slow, careful gait, and registered the surprise on the Major’s face before he turned the corner to start another loop of the ward. By the time he reached Alenko’s room again, Udina was gone. Now was his opportunity.

Thane entered the room and sat in the chair beside the Major’s bed, swift and silent, while Alenko’s eyes were closed. He would wait for the man to wake if need be. But the Major surprised him.

“You’ve been watching me,” he said without opening his eyes. His voice sounded painful, coarse with disuse.

“I have.”

“Why?”

“I promised another that I would.”

The Major opened his eyes, the bruises still dark around them. Swollen. “Shepard.” Her name little more than a whisper on his lips.

“Yes.” He considered leaving it at that, but it was obvious that Alenko, despite his return to consciousness, was still in considerable pain. A good assassin knows when to grant mercy. “I joined the Normandy as a member of the crew that would go through the Omega-4 Relay.”

“Huh,” Alenko said, and shifted gingerly on his bed. “Didn’t think Cerberus worked with non-Humans.”

“I was an… independent contractor,” Thane said. “And Shepard was in charge of Normandy personnel. Not Cerberus.”

Alenko nodded like he’d had the conversation before. Knowing Shepard, he probably had.

“Well, I’m alive. According to the Doc, I’m likely to stay that way.” He looked at Thane. “Why are you still here?”

“You are still vulnerable.” He blinked, feeling the tingling threat of a looming memory. “And I promised.”

_Sunlight. Pale and sickly. Stressed. So much death. Burning, screaming, pain. It hides in her eyes. Tired. Determined when she sees me watching. Fierce._

“Siha,” he breathed. He blinked at the memory of her, only a few weeks old, and cleared his throat. “It is the least I can do.”

“You must be Thane,” Alenko said after a moment.

He tilted his head at the man. “She spoke of me?”

The Major tried to shake his head, then winced and thought better of it. “No. But, Liara did.”

“Dr. T’Soni was on Earth?”

“Mars.” He looked at Thane and considered him for a long moment. “You and Shepard are… close?”

Thane didn’t look away from the Major. “I am indebted to the Commander for more than I could ever repay.” She’d saved his life, his son, and his soul. He would protect the Major until his dying breath if it came to that. “However, my illness prevents me from returning to her side. Watching you was the best I could offer.”

“Well, uh, thanks. I guess.” Alenko looked at him with confusion.

“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” Thane said. He stood and nodded at the man, then headed for the door, where he paused. “There is one thing, Major.”

“What’s that?”

“The Commander cares for you. She did long before she decided to grace me with her smiles, and she will long after I have breathed my last.” Thane held Alenko’s gaze, never blinking. “You took that regard for granted once. Only a fool would do so again.”

He didn’t wait for the Major to reply. Thane left the room and returned to a sunny seat in the lobby to await the arrival of his Siha.

 

He shouldn’t have let Alenko out of his sight. Thane had promised to protect the newly minted Spectre, and he would not allow Cerberus’ coup attempt to break that promise. The Citadel was in lockdown, airlocks and quarantine doors blocking all major thoroughfares. Civillians, for the most part, had wisely decided to remain indoors, and the eerie quiet of the station felt like something out of one of Joker’s horror vids.

Red lights flashed and reflected off the metal hallways while klaxons blared and Avina’s voice repeated the same warning, “Quarantine in effect. Please remain in your homes.”

He’d been at the hospital when the attack started, meditating and practicing his martial arts forms after yet another treatment for his Kepral’s Syndrome. He may not intend to use his skills, but that didn’t mean he would let them atrophy. And now it seemed, he’d been wise to continue his practice.

He hurried down halls and cut through the ventilation system when he came across an uncooperative door. Cerberus’ attack was insidious and clever, using the station’s security systems against its citizens. C-Sec communications were down, though personal channels still seemed to be in working order.

“Thane,” Shepard’s voice said in his ear, hard as the steel beneath his feet. “Do you read me?”

“I am here, Shepard.” He hated how winded he sounded already; he’d only been running for a few moments.

“What’s going on down there? We can’t hail the docking bay.”

He ducked into a bullet-ridden store front and filled her in quickly, panting. He peered around the corner, and ducked away just in time to avoid the hail of bullets from three Cerberus agents.

“Thane?” Shepard’s voice was sharp in her concern.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

In the silent moment, he could almost see her decide not to argue with him. “What about Kaidan? Is he safe?”

“We got separated. He said he needed to protect the Council. I’m en route to C-Sec Hadquarters.” He fired more rounds, heard the pained gurgle of a dying Assault Trooper.

“We’ll meet you there,” she said.

“Movement is difficult at the moment. Cerberus has initiated station-wide quarantine.”

A curse and then quiet. “EDI’s found us a path. Sending it to you now.”

His omni-tool chimed as he squeezed the trigger once more and took out the last of the Cerberus troops. He murmured a quick prayer and then raced down the hall. The sting in his lungs didn’t take long to develop into a burn that made his head spin. No matter how deep a breath he took, no matter how measured and steady, there just wasn’t enough oxygen.

But even with his mind reeling and his lungs on fire, Thane dispatched each Assault Trooper he encountered with lightning fast precision. When a Phantom tried to block his advance, it only took one roundhouse kick and two punches to get inside her defenses. Then it was a simple matter of shoving the barrel of his Carnifex under her jaw and squeezing the trigger.

He walked away from the carnage only slightly light-headed, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. There was a long climb ahead of him. C-Sec was four wards up, and there wasn’t much time.

Stealth was key. He sneaked through halls and took circuitous routes to avoid needless confrontations. Let C-Sec forces fight Cerberus; Shepard was his priority.

When he arrived at the Embassies level, the silence startled him. After the constant gunfire, klaxons, and voices of the other wards, the quiet was… unsettling. Until a single shot shattered glass somewhere in the maze of offices.

Thane broke into a sprint, following the sound. He leapt over desks, his heart thudding a staccato, uneven pattern in his chest. There simply wasn’t enough oxygen in his blood and the lack was starting to wear on his body.

“Three to one.” Shepard’s voice sounded so close, and yet so terribly, impossibly far. “It’s over.”

He drew up to take cover against the wall, peering around the doorframe to assess the scene. Shepard stood across the room from him, her pistol drawn and steady. Behind her Garrus and Liara mimicked her stance. Between Thane and the Normandy team were the Salarian Councilor and a dark haired man in leather armor bearing the Cerberus logo.

“No,” the man said, raising one hand at the Councilor. His voice was deep, rich and arrogant. “Now it gets fun.”

That was his cue. Thane stepped through the door and pressed his Carnifex to the back of the man’s head. Then the room broke into action.

The Cerberus agent swung his arm to knock Thane’s gun away, then drew the sword from its sheathe at his hip. Thane let the blow connect, taking two steps back to put distance between himself and the blade. It took less than two seconds before his pistol found its target once more, but the man was gone. Shepard and her team had the Councilor between them, guarded by the Galaxy’s best, and the Cerberus agent knew it.

Instead of hunting the Councilor, he focused his attacks on Thane.

The attacker reappered in a shimmer of light, his sword at the ready, but Thane was prepared for that. He swooped in close, too close for the sword, and pummeled his opponent. The blows came swift and hard, neither of them pulling their punches. One to the human’s chest, then he blocked the right-hand swing aimed at his head.

Duck. Kick. Punch, one, two, three. The man blocked the last blow, but Thane broke through it. He pulled on the dark energy within him, letting it warp and pool around his fist, and then he backhanded the man with a biotic force that hurtled him across the room.

With his pistol at the ready, Thane aimed at the human as he rebounded and ran at him. He squeezed off six rounds.

And the Cerberus assassin dodged them all.

_Amonkira, Lord of Hunters_ , he prayed, _grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true, and my feet swift._ His body ached, his vision white at the edges, and his lungs roared with fiery desperation. He was out of time. Thane lunged forward toward the assassin, a last gambit to give Shepard the chance to escape with the Councilor. _And should the worst come to pass, grant me forgiveness._

The Cerberus assassin was well trained. The blade came up just as it should. Thane didn’t try to avoid it; it was much too late for that. What surprised him was the lack of pain. He’d been stabbed before, numerous times, but the frigid steel of the assassin’s blade was such sweet relief when compared to the inferno in his chest. He heard a gasp escape his lips, heard her voice, as if from underwater, cry his name. And then the memories swallowed him.

_Wide, sunset eyes. Indignant. Furious. “How dare you?” Irikah. Haunting me, offering too much. Devotion. Promise. Love._

The blade pulled free and Thane fell to his hands and knees.

_Tiny hands so full of hope. A life yet lived. Pure. Little laughs when I tickle his fringe. Yet another promise. Be more, she said. Assassin, yes. But more. Husband. Father. Family._

His vision spun, the memories flashing through his mind in bright waves of white light. Distantly, he heard the thud of footsteps as the assassin ran from the room. He gasped, gulping at the air but found no relief from the fire in his lungs, or the pulsing ache in his abdomen.

_Brown eyes, deep as the seas of Kahje. Doesn’t look away. Does not fear me. Soft words followed by softer touch. Lonely. So alone, both of us. Tender, trembling kisses. “Be alive with me tonight.” Alive with me. Be alive._

_Alive, alive, alive…_

 

Thane did not expect to wake up. The rhythmic hiss-pump of a respirator told him he was in the hospital, and for a moment he almost believed it had all been a dream. But the dull throb in his side told him the truth. Cerberus had attacked the Citadel. He had gone toe-to-toe with their best assassin and nearly won, ill as he was.

When he did open his eyes, Kolyat was there, prayer book in hand. His son looked tired, and so much older than he had only a few months ago when they explored the New Mexican desert.

Thane tried to speak, but Kolyat shushed him by updating him on the state of the Citadel. He wasn’t surprised to hear Shepard had won; he doubted he’d be receiving medical attention otherwise. But it seemed that medical attention was too little too late. The blood loss from the stab wound had excelerated the Kepral’s Syndrome.

Kolyat’s voice cracked as he shared the news with his father, but Thane felt nothing but peace when he removed the oxygen mask. He had fought honorably, had protected his Siha’s beloved, and fought by her side one last time. His son was at his side, praying for him with words that sounded like the Priests.

This was a much better death than he’d dared dream for.

And then Shepard entered the room.

Kolyat greeted the Commander, explained that there was little time left, and asked if she would stay. She stepped up to the side of his bed and took his hand.

“There is one more thing,” Thane said, coughing. “Before it’s too late.”

Kolyat bowed his head, but Shepard never looked away from him. He gripped her hand and took a shuddering breath that felt like rocket exhaust in his lungs.

“Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, I ask forgiveness.” Hacking coughs wracked him, but he powered through. “Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand—”

“Kalahira,” Kolyat continued, “wash the sins from this one, and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit.”

Pride, stronger than he’d ever known, filled him then. His son, praying to their Gods. Irikah would be so pleased.

“Will you join me, Shepard?” Kolyat asked. She seemed uncertain, as if she didn’t wish to intrude, but Thane squeezed her hand and she nodded.

“Kalahira, this one’s heart is pure but beset by wickedness and contention,” they read from Thane’s worn prayer book. Their voices mingled, Kolyat’s thin, reedy voice bolstered by her strong, raspy one. “Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves,” Shepard looked at him, tears gleaming in her brown eyes, “the hungry never starve.”

The pain in his lungs ebbed, and for a moment he thought the white at the edges of his vision was yet more memories come to claim him. But there were no flashes. No sharp reminders of the shadows in which he’d built his life. Instead there was serenity and relief, enveloping him in warm, white light.

The voices of his son and his Siha entwined, ushering Thane into embrace of his god. “Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me.” His final prayer was complete.

A wish for those yet living.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This piece absolutely ran away with me. I just want to say that I intentionally diverted from in-game dialogue, so if you notice tweaks or changes, that was intentional. The gist is the same, but now its tonally consistent for the purposes of this fic. Thank you so much for participating in this exchange! It's been so much fun!


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